2013.05.01 - Wrong Address
A mid-week party is generally something that has to be planned for in advance, and Fern did just that in preparation for the Thrimilci Feast hosted by Sif and Thor. It's a good thing, too, because after a few too many champagne cocktails, she's not going to be in her best form tomorrow. Safely ensconced in the back of a cab (unfortunately, not the Cash Cab), Fern hums softly to herself, musing on the events of the evening. She had a nice time, although she drifted mostly around the fringes and spent a good deal of time talking to 'the help'. Still, it was beneficial, since one of the waiters smuggled her a little package with some of her favorite treats from the evening. As the cab pulls to a stop, the driver calls over his shoulder, "Well, here's the address you gave me." But why does he sound a little doubtful? Ok, her neighborhood isn't the best, granted. She unclasps her rhinestone studded clutch purse, withdrawing a few bills, and scoots forward to pass them to the driver. "Thanks," she says, "I hope you have a good rest of the night." She slips out of the cab, her skirt held in one hand, little bag of treats in the other, and her purse tucked under her arm. And she stops. And looks around. This isn't Harlem. She leans back in, although even in her slightly fuzzy state, she's recognized where she is. "What address did I give you?" When it's repeated she sighs, turns and looks again at the building. Finally, there's a smile to the cabbie, "Right, thank you." She swings the door shut, and approaches one of the outer doors of the former Weischel Carcass House. To his credit, the cabbie doesn't just leave her there, and the cab idles at the curb as Fern slips one shoe off, using it's rhinestone studded heel to rap on the door before leaning on the brick to slip the shoe back on. Weischel House is big enough that One customarily checks his camera feeds, disarms security measures for appropriate visitors, and they're allowed to let themselves in. This time, though, he shows up at the door in person. Not because he didn't check the feeds and the transmitter pings. Because he did. "Hey," the doctor slides the door open and greets his visitor with a smile. "You look... fantastic. A little drunk, but fantastic. Come in." Fern's dressed for a party, One's dressed for yet another night spent in his office. He still has the bottom half of his suit on, but he's stripped down to his undershirt and exchanged his polished boots for the soft climbing shoes that he wears around the house. As the door opens, Fern turns, bending at the waist to wave to the cab driver, fingers wiggling. She straightens, turning to face One, and smiles at him. "Thank you." She steps past him, moving with surprising grace in the heels for someone who rarely wears them, the light scent of her flowered perfume drifting around her. "I'm sorry to barge in. I seem to have given the cabbie the wrong address, so I thought, 'while I'm here'...." She lets the words drift off. Actually, that trip stripped her of her cab fare, so she didn't have much of a choice but to hope he was here. "While you're here," One echoes, turning it into a casual acknowledgement. He's still smiling as gives the cabbie a brief salute and then swings the door shut. He turns back toward Fern with his head canted to the side and his hands stuffed into his pockets. "So, special occasion?" he asks, nodding to her outfit. "Or should I proceed to feel flattered?" It is quite a change from Fern's everyday look, with her hair smoothed back into a soft knot at the nape of her neck (mostly, except for the stubborn wisps that curl around her face), light makeup that accents her blue eyes, and the dress... clinging and flowing at the same time, sparkly, daringly revealing, and turquoise. And let's not forget the sparkly, strappy heels. She smiles, "As much as I would be inclined to pump your ego and say it's all -just- for you... it was that Party Of The Gods tonight." She holds up the little doggy bag, giving it a gentle shake. "And I have treats." Without waiting she turns, strolling off toward the interior. "Yeah you do." One can't help but laugh, shake his head, and bite his lip. He follows Fern into the depths of his place. He seems to have been in the process of closing up shop for the night. Various portions of the clinic are powered down, the lights are off over the workout area, and there's no sound of hard drives spinning up and CPUs being pushed to their limits. One lays a hand on Fern's arm to slow her, but continues to follow her lead. "Must've been some party. What made you decide to leave and come here?" Fern pauses, giving One a couple steps to catch up, not at all thrown by the warmth of his hand on her bare arm. She blushes lightly, the telltale color adding more pink to her carefully applied cosmetic blush. "I gave the cabbie the wrong address." She didn't even live here that long, but she's too pleasantly tipsy to be baffled about it right now. "Things were starting to wind down, so I figured it was as good a time as any to slip out. It was kinda... not really in my league." She's a simple girl, and it's clear that the party was anything but simple just from her attire. She pauses again, looking around the space. "I forgot how quiet it can get here," she says, her voice almost a whisper. "I've had a lot a time to notice it," One admits. And they're right, it's like being in a library. With virtually no ambient noise coming from inside the building, it's hard to resist the urge to keep voices low. "So. Wrong address?" A crooked smile and a playful stage whisper pull the sting from One's mockery. "That's either a very bad attempt at a very smooth play or you're more drunk than I thought." "I'm not drunk," Fern protests lightly. "I feel... nice." She turns fully to face One, peering up at him with one brow arched. "You're going to talk yourself out of your share of the treats, you know." There's a light rustle of fabric as she steps forward, within an inch of him. "You should think carefully about what you say next," she whispers, a smirk on her lips. "You don't know what the treats are, and you could miss out on something spectacular." "I certainly wouldn't want that," One replies. He smiles too, hands back in his pockets, his eyes locked on Fern's as she approaches. He curls a brow as well, mirroring her expression. "Well? What did you bring me?" There's a pause as Fern just looks at One, the moment stretching out as her eyes hold his. The smirk fades from her lips slowly, until finally her lips part and she takes a breath of air in, then turns away in a flair of ruffled skirt. She walks again, more slowly, heading for the stairs to the 'living quarters'. "You'll find out," drifts back as she starts upward. While he's unobserved, One lets out a little puff of air and gives his head a quick shake. Then, still wearing the same crooked smile, he hits two buttons on a panel next to the stairs. The rest of Weischel House goes offline, leaving everything quiet and dark except a lit path from the entrance all the way to his office door. By now he's a few steps behind, but he skips to catch up as he follows Fern to his quarters. Fern goes right to the table that serves as One's dining area, dropping her purse and the bag at the same time. She doesn't turn as One nears, her attention instead focused on the task at hand. Retrieving a plate, she's back at the table, withdrawing the contents from the bag and arranging them just so. Cheesecake filled strawberries, chocolate filled raspberries, and bacon wrapped pineapple. Fruits. All very healthy. No, really. "This meal has no nutritional valute of any kind," One observes cheerfully as he approaches the table. "And it looks delicious. Thank you." He comes up behind Fern and lays his hand on her arm again. "Anything I can do to help?" She's fussing over the little tidbits more than necessary, and finally stops at the touch. Fern picks up a raspberry, leaning back against him, feeling the familiar solidness of his chest to her back, and she looks over her shoulder, up at him, offering the berry. "Yep. Eat this." The words are light, but perhaps a little of that is forced. One takes the tidbit between his teeth and savors it slowly. "Mm. Raspberries have always been my favorite," he finally says. For a moment, it feels like they've traveled back in time. Before things went sideways. Before Thailand. All the way back to a little apartment in Brooklyn. Then One blinks, smiles, and reaches out to tuck a lock of hair behind Fern's ear. "Should I make us some coffee?" Fern's eyes hold on One, watching his enjoyment of the morsel. She's lost in some pleasantly fuzzy thoughts, and isn't brought back until he brushes her hair back. Her eyes drop then, and she picks up a strawberry, biting it in half, still leaning lightly against him. She shakes her head at the question, her voice drifting back softly. "No, but..." There's a hesitation before she goes on, "Could you just... put your arms around me? Just for a minute..." "That's something I can definitely do," One replies, smiling wider. He wraps his arms around Fern and cradles her against his chest. He rests his cheek against the top of her head, breathing in her familiar scent. "You really do look beautiful. I'm glad you gave the cabbie my address." The other half of the strawberry is popped into her mouth, and Fern sighs deeply, that feeling of security that she's so keenly missed settling into her. "Thank you," she murmurs. "It really wasn't on purpose." That might be even more telling than if it -had- been intentional. One tugs Fern over to his battered leather chair, where he sits down and settles her into his lap. "It was an excellent accident, then," he says, wrapping his arms around her again. "I think I'd have killed myself if I knew I missed that dress." Fern attempts to drape her skirt as she settles into One's lap, but the slippery fabric won't stay, and slides aside, baring her legs. She tries again, same result, and gives up. It's not anything he's not familiar with anyway. She does have the presence of mind to snag the plate. "There's probably still a part of me that thinks of you when I think of home," she admits quietly. Another raspberry is brought up, offered to his lips. "And if your death would have been the alternative, it's best this way, yes." There's a soft giggle with the words. "I think I prefer this," One agrees, chuckling as he takes his second bite. "God, those are good." He looks aside, just for a moment, then meets Fern's eyes again. "Yeah. There's something about this that does feel like home. Safe. Good. Normal. And I'm not talking about living in an abandoned slaughterhouse. Even I don't think that's normal." Drawing her feet up, Fern twists to sit sideways, curled up, leaning her shoulder against the side of his chest. There's an openness in her eyes that she hasn't fully let through again; the sting of being sent away is less sharp.. hell, it's gone entirely, here in the familiar nest of One's lap. "I tried to let you go," she says. "I dated someone, but that... it wasn't right. It wasn't fair to him, I realized that after I saw you in Brooklyn." "It's hard to let go," One admits. "A lot harder than I thought it'd be. Everything that happened... It seemed like the best idea at the time. I don't know." It's rare for him to be flustered, or to appear confused, but right now he's showing clear signs of both conditions. He takes a breath, holds it for a moment, and lets it out slowly, squeezing Fern a little closer as he does. "Not seeing you didn't make things better. But hey, at least I don't have to worry. You're buddies with immortals now. Real ones. Plus, you're developing a pretty mean right cross." They had been together so much, once upon a time, that Fern learned a lot about how to read his face, to judge the feelings that she knew were there. That ability seems to have left her, or it's just failing by virtue of the little champagne cocktails. Her eyes drop. "No, you don't have to worry." Another raspberry is raised, offered to him. One takes the offered bite and kisses Fern's fingertip. "I shouldn't worry," he corrects himself. There's another sigh, another squeeze, and he settles a little deeper into the old chair. "I'm sorry I sent you away," he says. "It didn't fix anything." His voice is very quiet, but he's definitely saying the words out loud. Another rarity. Him admitting he was wrong. "But you still do worry?" Fern asks softly. As he settles more comfortably, so does she, reaching down to flip her sparkly heels off and let them fall to the floor, then all but melting into him. Resting her head on his shoulder, she finds herself looking at an expanse of skin, the plane of his neck. She tilts her head forward, the tip of her nose barely touching as she takes a breath in. No flower could smell so good as his skin always does. It smells like... One. She doesn't think as she softly touches a kiss to his skin, or else she might have stopped herself. "Of course I do," One says. "I didn't stop having feelings for you. I just didn't want to see you get hurt because of me." He lets out a soft, rumbling sound and leans in against Fern. "Who am I kidding? The only way to keep you safe from the whole world would be to lock you away from it. I'm not the only dangerous thing out there. And I'm still talking. Shutting up now." That sound has never, ever failed to wrap around Fern's heart and squeeze, but it's a delicious squeeze that she thought she'd never feel again. "I never thought you were dangerous," she whispers, her breath hot against his throat. One more soft kiss turns into several, each lingering, the plate balanced precariously on her knee wobbling but not spilling as her hand lifts, fingertips stroking lightly on the opposite side. Another whisper comes, higher toward his jaw. "I never stopped loving you." "You've been drinking. We're both... We shouldn't. We should have this talk in the morning?" One really does sound confused now. "An hour ago, I was alone and that was okay. Now you're here and you brought raspberries and damnit, you look amazing in that dress." Now he does shut up, but only so he can kiss Fern soundly. The little nips and nibbles that move upward toward his ear might not be doing much to clear One's mind, and while her own head is fuzzy Fern knows what she wants. There's a sharp intake of breath as he silences himself, and there is nothing tentative about the kiss Fern returns. It's chocolate raspberries, and strawberry cheesecake, and the never forgotten, unique taste that is only One underlying it all. Her fingers twine in his hair, the plate does slip now, clattering to the floor, but with the blood rushing in her ears, she doesn't hear it. When she finally pulls back, her breathing is rapid, shallow, and her lips barely leave his. "Do you want me to go?" One gives his head a tiny shake, but his eyes never leave Fern's. His hands settle comfortably on her hips, one of which is now exposed by the slit in her ensemble. "No," he says. "I changed my mind. I want us to make potentially bad decisions tonight and figure it all out in the morning. Now the question is, do you want to go?" "This isn't because of any drinks I had," Fern says, her voice soft yet still earnest. She leans in, rubbing her nose lightly against his. "I never wanted to go," she answers simply. The space between them is closed as her lips find his again, one hand moving, newly manicured fingernails raking against the back of his neck, drawn out over his shirt to his shoulder. The kiss finally shuts One up, and Fern's carefully styled hair is thoroughly mussed in the process. After a few seconds he stands, picking her up and pressing her against the wall. Then to the desk. It's like the first time in more ways than one. It ends like the first time, as well, in a nest of blankets, wrapped around each other. Fern is sweaty, sated, and as sober as a nun. Which is where that particular resemblance stops. She doesn't bother to try and pull a sheet over to cover them, it's nice to be in the cool air for a little while longer. Hell, more than that, it's nice to look over his particular landscape and appreciate the planes and angles she'd thought were lost. After a while, her breathing even slows to something resembling normal. Meanwhile, One is already overdue to hook up to Glitch for his maintenance and recharging cycle. He doesn't get up, though. For a long time he just holds Fern and watches her. Then, smiling, he tucks a hand behind his head and closes his eyes. He's relaxed as well, and for what feels like the first time in a long time. Category:Log